The Redemption
by Ephemeros
Summary: Through a series of strange events, one girl, Everhart Gavrel, will find love, betrayal, damnation, and hopefully, redemption for the soul that was never her own. Drac/OFC. Rated M. Violence, Sexuality, Swearing, General Naughtiness, and Velkan!
1. Prologue: Last Resort

**AN: **Quick introduction. I am 19, an amatuer writer, who loves to write, loves to read multiple books at a time, and write multiple stories at a time - posting only one :P There will be two chaps today since that seems only fair given how short they are, I love to write longeys. LOL. That being about it...please let me know what you think.

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**The Redemption**  
by Ephemeros

Revenge, lies, seduction, murder, purgatory, and immortality. Can the Damned be Redeemed? Through a series of strange events with strangely familiar characters, one girl, Everhart Gavrel, will find love, betrayal, damnation, and hopefully, redemption for the soul that was never her own. Dracula/OFC. Rated M. Violence, Sexuality, Swearing, General Naughtiness ;)

**Prologue: Last Resort**

The halls were long and shady in the hours after class, his footsteps resounded hollowly. A pool of light spilled onto the floor and he approached it, glad that the door was open. He looked in, a word on his lips, but was disappointed to find the one he was looking for already gone. He saw a girl walking among the desks and hoped.

"Excuse me - Is Mr. Everhart Gavrel still in the building?" The girl, apparently the teacher's TA, barely paused in picking up the test papers.

"Yes."

"Could you tell me where, then? I need to speak with him." She continued gathering papers, as if she hadn't heard him - but he knew she had. He bit his tongue with impatience. "It's urgent."

She finally turned, "Urgent?" Behind a pair of black rimmed rectangular glasses, a pair of dark green eyes quickly assessed him. She pushed a stray curl out of her face. "Why don't you have a seat, sir." her tone was derisive, "He'll be right with you."

He held a curse back and took the seat she indicated. Flying half way around the world to wait in a chair while some skirt traipsed around, wasting his time, was not what he had planned. He was about to say as much, when the skirt came down the steps in her heels, setting a healthy stack of papers on the desk, and going around to the other side, took the seat designated for…He gulped.

"Very well, sir. The _Mr_. Gavrel is in. What's so urgent?" Her eyes glittered with dark amusement as she took her glasses off and met his baffled stare with one of challenge.

He tried to chuckle, his neck hot with embarrassment, "I have bite-marks on my knee…"

She smirked, "And well you should. But you're not the first, or the last."

"I apologize."

She waved it off. "No need. I think you have more important things to say in your five minutes, than 'I'm sorry'…"

She'd given him a time limit?

"…Let's not waste them." She gave him another crocodile smile.

He leveled a questioning gaze at her, inclined to expect more respect, but had to remind himself that this was not Europe and _she_ didn't know who _he_ was. "I am currently researching my ancestry and…" he skipped preamble, "…There's a question of… inheritance, that has led me to a certain estate…" He checked to make sure she was following, "Where an artifact has been 'discovered', for lack of a better word."

She looked at him quizzically, a line on her forehead showing impatience.

"With your expertise in Latin, I was hoping that you could…translate the markings for me. Inform me just what and why it would be at my ancestor's home?"

He finished feeling a fool. She wore a guarded expression, one that didn't impress him with any optimistic expectation. He expected to get the boot - yet again. She even did so much as to smirk, again.

She readjusted herself, choosing her words it seemed, "I'm curious, seeing how you're clearly not from the States," she casually gestured at him, indicating his failure at blending in, "why not seek someone closer to home? I know for a fact that there are professors and translators more qualified than I." She waited, expectantly, searching his face for…what?

"Well, to tell the truth, Miss Gavrel, I did. Seek someone closer that is." He knew it! She sat back in her seat, that dark amusement coloring her eyes, not unattractively, but not in his favor either.

"So, I'm not only not-a-man, but I'm also your…last resort?" She smirked, "I don't know why I don't just jump at the opportunity."

"I don't mean to be so offensive. But, perhaps, if I had known you were a woman, I would have come to you sooner." He gave her a devilish smile, using his charm for good - he hoped. "I really would appreciate _your _help."

She raised a brow, and then pursed her lips, looking down at her desk as she declined. "I'm sorry, I teach Latin - not archaeology. But I can refer you to someone -"

He stopped her before she could pull out the drawer containing her index. "There is no one else. I was told that you were the best - my last chance of finding someone qualified -"

"Oh? And what qualifies me?"

"Your expertise - your heritage - in eastern European history."

She studied the wood grain of her desk. "To know about my mother and not that I was a woman is rather an interesting gap in your information - don't you think?"

"Yes, if I had read about you from a file. But I didn't, you were referred to me yourself, by Dr. Perlman at Oxford."

She nodded, still not looking up at him. "He probably was amused with the idea that you would think I was a man." He heard a rush of breath escape her parted lips. "Where, exactly, is this estate?" She looked up at him, pinning him with those emerald eyes.

"In the Carpathian mountains."

"In…?"

"Eastern Romania. I'll supply the ticket." He said, hope having ignited within him once more.

"I would expect you to." she said with another smile that was more irony than happiness. "Alright. I'll agree to it. When?"

He smiled, "As soon as possible. Tomorrow morning?"

She seemed pleased, "Good."

"Thank you very much, Miss Gavrel." he stood and held out his hand.

"You're welcome, I think. And…" she took his hand and shook it, "Call me Eve, it will eliminate confusion in the future."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eve." He gave her a nod, and was leaving when the sound of her clearing her throat stopped him. He pivoted on his heel.

"I think you're forgetting something, sir. Like _your_ name?"

Had he forgotten? He had. He was too eager for the answers to finally be given. He was heady with expectation, the fruition of that promise made so long ago, so long, now so close. He gave her a tilted smile, his brown eyes glimmering keenly, "Velkan, Velkan Waleri."


	2. Chapter 1: Figments

**Chapter 1: Figments**

_Veni la mine, mila. Veni la mine, înger_

_She was walking down a very narrow, high, passageway. Following the whisper. It was dark, so very dark that the walls themselves seemed to be made of the night. But they were real, she could feel the hard, cold stone beneath her fingertips - trembling._

Her heart was always pounding so fast.

_The passage seemed to slope down, and up at once, she did not know where she was going. Only that go, she must. She thought she saw a glimmer of light, but she had only blinked, and suddenly, she was in a large room._

It was always so cold there.

_Ice hung from the ceiling like freakish chandeliers, like fingers, reaching down (or was it up), to try and catch her. She walked beneath them, just out of their reach, to the stone table that had brought her here._

It was always to this place.

_Stepping to its side, she could feel the cold and darkness coming from it. It was palpable, living, pulling her to it, wanting to embrace her. She looked down, there were strange symbols carved, she recognized them, and at the same time, could not understand them._

Always this gibberish.

_It was cold to the touch. So cold that it cut her, and she bled as she tried to clear the dust away so that she could read it. But suddenly, as the dot of her crimson blood contacted the black stone, it became translucent, like ice, and she saw a pair of blue eyes. They looked into her soul, and then were gone as she blinked again. But now, she saw a face…her own. _

_She lay within a stone coffin, dead._

"Eve? Eve, wake up."

Everhart Gavrel opened her eyes to find Velkan Waleri standing over her, his dark brown eyes trained on her with amusement. "Do you always dream in Latin?"

She gave him a wry look, absent-mindedly worrying about the state of her appearance after sleeping most of the flight. "Yes." she crooned sarcastically. "What other language is there."

The man standing beside her smirked. "Too bad I don't understand it. I'll bet it was interesting."

She heard some kind of implication in his voice but disregarded it. Apparently they had landed and were the last ones on the plane. She could see the flight attendant waiting at the other end, a false smile painted on her mouth like lipstick. "I think we should go."

He took her bag from her with a small smirk she would have missed had the compartment not been so small. Yes, she thought, he's back home and in his element.

It had been several years since she had seen the harsh and verdant country of Romania. Twenty one if she was honest with herself. But even after all this time, she recognized it, the sights and smells, the people, and the superstitions.

The stunning view of their car ride evoked memories, most of them painful. Eve looked away from the window, and over to the driver - the man who was brining her back here.

Velkan Waleri was a handsome man, detrimentally so. His chiseled features, deep brown eyes, and long lean body only accentuated by his tailored pants and knee length black wool coat had broken many a heart and bed she'd daresay. But at present, she was more interested in just why it was so important for him to know about his ancestors.

"Yes, Miss Gavrel?"

She hadn't meant to stare. "I didn't say anything." she said, looking about casually, turning back to the window.

"No, but you were staring."

Damn it! He'd caught her. But he'd been so focused. He must have keen senses. "I'm sorry. I was just wondering why it is so important for you to know what this translation is."

"I told you, I want to know about my predecessors."

"But still, so much trouble, just to…" she shrugged, "It's just that you don't seem the type."

"The type?" he glanced over at her, suspicion in his eyes.

"Most people searching for their ancestral roots do so because they feel disconnected with their present, so, they look to the past, hoping to transfer a connection. You don't seem…disconnected." she smirked at her own repetitiveness.

"No. My reason is different. And if you will recall, I told you the reason Miss Gavrel; an inheritance."

"Oh. Money."

"Oh, money. Of course. It what makes the world run round and not out." He smirked too, glancing out his own window.

But Eve felt that there was more. "Are you sure that's your reason, Mr. Waleri?"

"Am I under interrogation - Miss Gavrel?"

She looked over at him, with his expensive hair, good teeth, tailored clothes, and then around his car. He didn't seem to need more money. "No." she answered, realizing he wanted his reasons kept.

"Good. Because you're missing the view."

She turned to see that they were climbing up a slope, taking a curve, one that had them suspended over a valley full of evergreens, with pockets of snow littering the lush landscape. She swallowed back a sad, lonely feeling. "It's beautiful."

She felt his cursory glance.

"How much farther is this 'estate' as you called it."

"Just an hour, give or take a few."

She sighed, jet lag was catching up with her. She took up a bottle of water she'd bought from the airport's gift store, and took a long swill.

"Want me to wake you when we get there?"

She couldn't miss the mockery in his voice. "No, thanks. I want to see this coming."

- - -

It was set in a valley. The village where this estate was. Surrounded by trees, encased by mountains, it was a bowl, containing both the past and future, the narrow paved road resembling a small town Main Street. On either side were quaint and warm looking houses and shops, flowers still fighting the snow in window boxes, children playing along the street. It should have been a greeting card, but there were grim faces amidst the smiles, most of them lined with age, and their eyes followed the black car as it passed through the village with wariness.

Then they reached the northern end of the village and she saw it.

"An estate?" Eve had been misled. At most she had envisioned a manor house, but this was a miniature castle. It was flanked by pines, towering sentries guarding the keep. And it would have seemed come from a fairy legend had it not been for the work crew buzzing about it. Velkan answered Eve's questioning look.

"I'm restoring it. The west wing is all but finished."

She scanned the area. There was a tower, and even parapets, all Gothic in their architecture. The age of the place was contrasted by the restorations that had been accomplished already, snow muddied by the traffic. "This is amazing." she said, feeling slightly awed.

"Do you want to see it?" Velkan asked with obvious pride.

"I would like to see what you brought me here to translate." she reined in her curiosity, restraining her imagination, and focused.

"It's in the east wing." he said, his tone slightly apologetic.

"But of course." she trudged after him, glad she'd worn boots of somewhat a practical nature.

He led her through the maze of halls, the rooms smelling of timber, kerosene, and age. There were tapestries, paintings, and coat of arms, but Eve didn't get to pay them as much attention as she would have liked, due to Velkan's firm pace.

"It's in the library." he noted, as they entered into the relatively untouched wing. It was draftier, colder, and there were muffled scurrying sounds in the walls.

"That's usually where the weird stuff is. It's just usually rectangular shaped, and bound in leather."

The door complained loudly as it was opened, Velkan bracing it as if it would crumble. Noting it worm-eaten appearance, Eve believed it could. "Yes, well, it's not leather-bound, but, it is rectangular." As he spoke he stepped over to a large tarp hanging on the wall, and gingerly pulled it down, revealing a map.

"They've already started repairing it." he said quietly, in awe himself.

It was a large animal skin, most likely several sewn together, laboriously seasoned, and painted with a fine map - centuries old. Eve approached it with excitement, her love of history urging her forward. But upon closer inspection, she frowned.

"This isn't in Latin."

"No. Romanian, ancient but still, I can read it." Velkan stepped next to her and pointed to the edges of the map. "This is what I want you to translate."

It was framework. Wood carefully carved to fit the map, words etched in its surface, framed the skin, as if it were a great portrait. Eve frowned, squinting.

"It's newer. Placed here some hundred years ago - in the 1940s I'm told."

"Told?" she glanced up from her kneeling position.

"I have several specialists working on the place." Velkan said, none too modestly.

Eve's suspicions about this man strengthening, she turned back to the woodwork. "It's not in Latin either." she said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry." She went to rise.

"Wait!" He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her there.

She looked at his hand like it was a flea.

"What is it then?"

She sighed, and then fingered the carvings, "It's not a language at all, not a civilization's anyway, its sort of…well, you could call it a 'private' language. Like a secret code - or cipher."

"A cipher. But there's Latin in it, some of the words I can -"

"It's based on Latin. Like any Romantic language, its root is Latin -"

"So you can translate it?"

"It could take months. It was created to keep the wrong person from reading it. It's supposed to be difficult."

Velkan looked at her with a keen, searching gaze, "Are you the right person, Eve?"

Eve sighed. "I'd have to transcribe it, and then try to find the key. I'll take it back to New York and let you know what I find."

"No. You have to do it here."

"I can translate it just as easy there as I can here." she argued. "Besides, it's probably just a poem or something of that nature, Mr. Waleri."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "And why would that have to be written in a secret language, Miss Gavrel?"

She'd backed herself into a corner. She stood, hands on her hips and looked at the map. It was about ten foot high and twenty foot wide, give or take a few feet. "There should be a signature or some mark on the work to distinguish the craftsman, right?"

"It would suit the period." Velkan turned to her, "Why, would that help?"

"Maybe…I have to find the key, otherwise…" She looked out the window, the shadows were closing in, night was falling. She couldn't help but remember the stories she'd heard as a child.

"We'll look for it tomorrow."

She wondered if Velkan had read her thoughts.

"I'll show you your room now if you like."

"Here?" she wasn't sure if she would want to stay here, in an ancient fortress, in the backwoods of Romania.

"Yes. The west wing…It's very comfortable."

"I'm sure." she said doubtfully.

"Running water, electricity…queen sized bed."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

"Nothing of the sort, besides, I love it here."

It was the first thing that she could believe without any hesitation or doubt. Velkan Waleri did love it here, and, now, she was almost certain, he knew more about what that translation meant than what he was telling her.

As if by cue, the wind snaked through the trees, twisting. And Eve's imagination conjured up the sound of her name. They passed through what had been the armory, and she thought she saw a shadow at the window. A figure peering inside. But it was only a tree moving in the wind. Only whispers and shadows, embellished by her imagination.

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**AN: **Veni la mine, mila. Veni la mine, înger = Romanian = come to me, mercy. come to me, angel.


End file.
